


I Like Whatever's Sharp (This Wasn't)

by bingo_boingo_boyo



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jonathan Sims is a God Damned Mess, Knives, M/M, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:10:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bingo_boingo_boyo/pseuds/bingo_boingo_boyo
Summary: The knife didn’t slide in. It pushed past the tissue and skin, tearing through the delicate organs, before landing firmly in the voice box.





	I Like Whatever's Sharp (This Wasn't)

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing beyond my own desire to see Jon hurt more than he is in canon. This was also written fast and is largely unedited.

The knife didn’t slide in. It pushed past the tissue and skin, tearing through the delicate organs, before landing firmly in the voice box. Daisy grinned a manic smile, twisting the dull blade deeper into the Archivist’s larynx .

His hands flew up, dull nails scratching weakly at the hands that kept the metal in his throat. Jon could feel his panicked eyes scanning Daisy’s, trying to find something that hinted at remorse.

He didn’t find anything, of course.

As quickly as the knife went it, it was gone again. Jon fell to the forest floor, trying to breathe around the new hole in his neck. The searing pain he half-expected was absent. Instead, ice settled into his veins, freezing the deep-green forest around him. Copper coated his throat. Each breath that managed to escape seemed too loud in his ears.

Jon thought he could hear Daisy talking above him. She seemed manic with joy, impossibly excited as she ranted about “Freeing the world from the monsters that had overtaken it”, and how his death would free the others, opening their eyes to the truth of the matter.

That doesn’t sound so bad, Jon thought. I suppose I do owe them quite a debt. And an apology.

A faint smile forced its way onto his face. I suppose my death will have to do.

A sudden kick to the ribs brought everything back, sudden awareness sweeping in out of nowhere. A hand twisted in his blood-soaked cardigan as Daisy sneered, “What are you smiling about?”

The sneer twisted across her face, changing it into something unnatural. “Don’t you know I won?” She dropped him as abruptly as she had picked him up.

His breath vanished from his body, and for one insane moment, Jon thought Mike had woken up and taken him up again. Then, his head flopped towards the side and he saw the limp, copper-stained hand and remembered that Daisy had gotten the better of both of them.

His head rolled back up, gaze fixed on the clear blue sky far above his head. It wasn’t often that he saw a blue sky, especially considering he rarely left London. But there it was, as crisp as a postcard.

This isn’t a bad spot to die, Jon decided. I thought I’d die in the archive. This, this is much better. The world began to fade away, and his eyes slipped closed.

He could feel consciousness slipping away, as his world narrowed down into noise. Daisy was still talking. Wind was gently flowing through the trees. Jon could do nothing but breathe.

All of a sudden, everything stopped. The wind, Daisy’s unhinged rambles, even the sound of Jon’s gasping breath. 

“What have you done to my Archivist?” A smooth voice bit out.

Everything abruptly began again. Jon’s heart began to beat twice as hard and the steady flow of blood dripping from his neck grew into a flood.

“Jon,” that too-familiar voice ordered. “Stop that. I can’t do anything if you bleed out.”

“E-E-Eli—” Jon gasped out.

“Hush, Jon. I promise I will fix this,” Elias calmly ordered.

Against all odds, Jon relaxed, blood returning to the steady flow it was before and his eyes fell shut.

“Good boy,” Elias murmured. “Now,” He turned, polished oxfords scraping through the underbrush. “What did you do to my Archivist?”

“He was recording me!’ Daisy shrieked. “I hunt monsters! Like you, like him! I can’t allow things like you both to run rampant in the world!”

Elias took a step forward. “So, you’re telling me,” step, “that you attacked my Archivist,” step, “because you believed he was a monster?”

“Yes!” Daisy yelled, back against a tree. “He’s one of you!”

Elias laughed. “Oh my dear Huntress. You have no idea what a monster truly looks like, do you?”

Daisy grabbed at her gun, shakily pointing it towards Elias. “I will kill you, freak. I’ve seen what you can do. I’ve heard what that thing,” She jerked her head towards Jon’s limp body, “can do.”

Elias laughed again, voice devoid of warmth. ‘Daisy Tonner. Jonathan Sims is not a monster.” He spread his arms, presenting himself. “If it help you though, I’ll admit that I very much am.”

The sudden echo of gunshots startled Jon. The screeching calls of frightened birds far above were the only noise Jon’s straining ears could detect, as he tried to figure out what just happened. That was until Daisy started laughing.

It was a panicked, crazed noise, completely lacking the joyful fervor that had been so present before. She was scared and Jon couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes and see what had prompted the change.

“God damn it,” Daisy gasped out, “God fucking damn it! Fine! Take him!” She laughed again. “I don’t think I can stop you.”

“Much obliged, Miss Tonner.” Elias flatly stated, the crunch of his oxfords over fallen leaves getting closer to Jon’s ears.

Elias bent down, and with a soft hmph of air, lifted Jon. The sudden movement sent an abrupt white-hot tail of agony through Jon, forcing a whimper from stiff lips.

“Hush, Jon,” Elias ordered. “I’m sorry I got here as late as I did. But I need you to hold on. I can’t replenish blood so I need you to just hold on and keep breathing.”

“Elias...” Jon managed to force past his ruined vocal cords.

“Hush!” Elias ordered, voice leaving no room for argument. He began to walk faster, arms tightening around Jon, as if by holding him tighter, he could convince him to stay. 

“Elias...” Jon forced out again, managing to open his eyes to squint at the underside of his boss’s jaw.

Elias glanced down, before stumbling in surprise. “Jon?” He breathed out. “I cannot allow you to close your eyes again, Jon. Do you understand? You must remain awake.”

The stumble had sent a sharp spike of pain through Jon, and his eyes had flown open. He couldn’t help the small exhale that escaped his mouth at Elias’ words.

“Elias,” Jon murmured. “When this does kill me, you are to tell the next Archivist exactly what happened to me.” A brief flicker of surprise managed to cut through the ice that had settled in his body at his voice, now rough and harsh.

From the crease in Elias’ brow, he noticed the new voice as well.

“Promise me, Elias,” Jon quietly murmured, eyes slipping shut once again.

“Jon,” Elias barked out. “Open your eyes. Now!”

The world began to melt around Jon, as Elias’ increasingly frantic orders seemed to fade away like he was speaking through a tunnel. Right before consciousness was snatched away, Jon swore he heard Elias bark out, “Dammit, yes fine I’ll tell them, now open your ey—”

*~*~*  
“Oh my god, what happened—” 

“Martin, get the first aid kit. Tim, close the blinds and turn on that light. No, not that one.”

“Shouldn’t we... God, shouldn’t we take him to a doctor? None of us have the training for this?”

“Don’t. Get the first aid kit.”

*~*~*

“Miss Barker?”

“Who is this?”

“Elias Bouchard. I’m the employer of Mister Sims, I’m calling —”

“Oh my god, you’re him. The one that—”

“Yes Miss Baker, I’m sure that everything you’ve heard was perfectly accurate. As I was saying—”

“Did you find him? Did you find Jon? He left last night before I got home, and there was burn cream all over the counter. He keeps saying there’s nothing to worry about, but I am worried god damn it. Worried about him. Do you think that —”

“Miss Baker. If you would let me speak, I have information on Jonathan Sims.”

“Oh. Yes, of course. I’m-I’m sorry, please... go ahead.”

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, Jonathan Sims has recently...”

*~*~*

“Is this what working here does to you? Leave you unconscious for days and steal parts of your body?”

“If you’re lucky, yeah.”

“You weren’t kidding when you told me about this place and how dangerous it was, were you? Not a boy’s club, just genuinely dangerous.”

“That is what we told you. Not my fault or Martin’s that it took you this long to realize it.”

“Well... Hasn’t anyone tried to leave? How do we survive this?”

“You think I haven’t tried?”

“No! Well... yes.”

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve done to try and get out of this shit hole. Not that it’s done me any good.”

“But how do we get through this?”

“Get lucky, I suppose. And hope it doesn’t catch up to us like it did to him.”


End file.
